


Spiderio Drabble

by Readmynovels



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Dubious Consent, Emotional Manipulation, Grief/Mourning, Illusions, M/M, peters heartbroken over tony's death, quentin takes advantage of it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-17
Updated: 2019-07-17
Packaged: 2020-06-30 09:58:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,054
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19850797
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Readmynovels/pseuds/Readmynovels
Summary: Peter's mourning Tony's death and Quentin takes advantage of him.





	Spiderio Drabble

**Author's Note:**

> Basically, tumblr is petty and it purged this, so here it is again :)

Manipulating Peter was Quentin’s new favorite game. The way his eyes widened in fear, how the boy’s voice got trapped in his throat and he whimpered for Beck’s help was so damned delightful. Beck knew it wasn’t fair how Peter never really stood a chance. It was just so  _ easy _ . That might have been the most pathetic part. Making the kid think he was being attacked by some anonymous villain was just as simple as Quentin leaning down and tying his own shoes. But even past that, it was how instinctively the kid believed him, listening to every lie he whispered in his ear like it was gospel, never thinking to pay attention to that sixth sense of his because why would Beck lie? That puppy-level of innocence from the boy only made Quentin’s pants tighter. Really, he was just lucky to get to Peter first. Honestly, he was shocked someone hadn’t already come along and tricked him into being theirs sooner, given the naivety dripping from his sweet disposition. 

Peter was currently frozen in place, seated on a couch. Quentin reclined next to him, casting illusion after illusion into that pretty head of his. His breath was quickened, heart rate through the roof. 

“Mr. Stark...Tony…” Peter muttered to himself. 

Ugh. This again? 

Quentin knew all about Tony Stark. He knew how much Peter obsessed over him, how he worshipped the egotistical prick like a god, and he also knew there was no chance of Stark swooping in to save him. _ Iron Man _ . Would the world still idolize him if they knew what he had been doing with his teenage  protégé behind closed doors? Hell, they’d probably love him if they knew he was a mass murderer. Oh, wait. That’s right--he was. And the world just turned the other cheek, even before he got back half the universe. Quentin couldn’t help but strive for that kind of mob mentality in his soon-to-be adoring fans. 

A wayward tear trickled down Peter’s hot cheek catching Quentin’s attention and he smiled softly, adding another illusion for good measure. 

Maybe he did owe Peter’s mental state to Stark. Without his death, Peter wouldn’t be such a wreck, eagerly searching for solace in any adult male that flashed him a smile and offered him a pat on the back. Not that there was a need for him to search for that person, of course. Not anymore. 

“Because you’re all mine now, aren’t you, gorgeous?” Quentin mumbled quietly as he wiped away another stray tear from the kid’s cheek, blocking the audio from reaching Peter’s ears just in case. He couldn’t wait to see those same tears when the boy would be choking around his cock, but...that was for another night. 

The thought of using the boy to get off made Quentin a bit impatient. He conjured a quick flash of himself in his manipulation and watched as the kid took the bait with ease. 

“Mr. Beck?” Peter cried out, eyes wide with terror as he gazed at the horrific world Quentin made for him. 

“Peter,” Quentin drew a hand over his thigh, brushing the denim material ever-so slightly before pulling away, “What’s happening?” he asked, giving his tone a twist to make him sound worried. 

“I—I don’t know!” Peter sputtered back like he was drowning--only because he thought he was. With a flick of his fingers, Quentin changed the stage, making Peter believe he was getting dragged out of the crashing waves. 

“I got you.” He promised reassuringly, laying his hand back on Peter’s thigh, only higher up this time, so, so close to where his cock his hidden under his jeans. He blurred Peter’s vision, momentarily giving himself enough time to transform the windows of the living room into having views from the beach. 

The droplets on Peter’s clothes were a little harder to conjure up, but Quentin managed, ever the perfectionist. 

For a long minute, the kid’s pupils were huge, almost like he had been drugged. It was always interesting seeing the effects Quentin’s powers had on people. It had been a while since he had a chance to see it so up close. Fortunately, Peter Parker was such a beautiful subject to study. 

As Peter came out of the daze, he wrapped his arms around Quentin eagerly, little broken sobs escaping his lips. 

“Mr. Beck.” He repeated in the crook of his neck, completely disoriented. 

“It’s okay. Everything’s okay now. I got you.” Quentin assured, rubbing his hand up and down Peter’s back. “Don’t worry. I’m always going to protect you.” 

Was it fucked up to project Peter’s sense of Tony’s scent onto himself? Without a doubt, but it made the kid melt into his touch, so Quentin considered it a win. Whether Peter was pretending it was Tony or not didn’t matter in the slightest. He’d soon associate the same attraction to Quentin all on his own, at this rate, probably permanently clinging to his side within the week. 

“My good boy.” Beck cooed in his ear. 

Peter visibly shivered at that, tucking himself even closer to Quentin’s chest, eyes wired shut and his grip tight--tighter than he probably meant for it to be--as if he was scared of being let go. God, Tony really did a number on him. He was like a baby bird that had fallen out of the nest, all alone and so vulnerable, left on the cold ground for anyone to snatch up. 

“Please.” Peter whined, voice full of conviction, but severely lacking direction. Poor thing. Stark had him trained like a dog and now, without his master around, the kid didn’t know what to do with himself. He wanted to listen, but he didn’t have a voice to listen to. It was so painfully obvious that all the kid really needed a firm, guiding hand. Maybe this thing Quentin had planned could be more mutualistic than he originally thought. Maybe he had exactly what Peter needed. 

He gently began to push Peter back just to have him cry and desperately cling to Quentin even tighter.

“N-No! Please don’t.” He begged pathetically, tears soaking his neck. “Please don’t.” He repeated hopelessly. 

“Hey, hey.” Quentin persuaded him delicately. “I’m not going anywhere. Look at me, sweetheart.”

Slowly, Peter allowed Quentin to take his head in his hands and coax him away from his neck until their foreheads were almost touching. The whites of Peter’s eyes were tinted pink from his tears, but the deep, piercing chocolate brown irises stole Beck’s attention. So fragile and open for him. 

As they stared at each other, frantic little breaths leaving Peter’s lips as he struggled to calm down, Quentin realized it was his time to strike. The adrenaline was at its peak. If there was any time to take advantage of the kid, it was now. 

Lightly, Quentin moved forward and brushed his lips against Peter’s. He was already making himself pull back, ready to convey hesitation in his eyes, but the kid didn’t give him a chance, instead chasing his lips hungrily, barely letting them part from Beck’s. What had been a hug and a half-a-second peck turned into Peter crawling onto Quentin’s lap and slipping his tongue in his mouth, little needy whimpers emitting from his throat. Quentin reciprocated immediately, trying his hardest not to smile at how quickly the kid gave in. 

He had one hand on the nape of Peter’s neck, the other running down his back until he was touching the curve of the boy’s ass, annoyingly restricted by his damn jeans. Quentin needed to take off his boy’s pants. Now. 

Reluctantly, he roamed his hand away from his ass to his tee shirt. He hurriedly dragged up the cotton material, eager to get the fabric off of his lithe body. It was in that moment that Peter froze in place, eyes meeting Quentin’s in pause. 

Fuck. Quentin couldn’t afford a pause from the kid. A pause meant he was hesitating, which meant he was thinking, and he was in no position to be doing any of that. He might decide he didn’t really want this after all and that just wasn’t an option. 

“Mr. Beck, I-I don’t know.” Peter shook his head. “I haven’t--I mean--” He looked down at where he was sitting, and then, as if waking up from a dream, moved his hands off Quentin’s neck. “I didn’t mean to--I’m sorry. I just--”

“Shh.” Quentin gave him another kiss. He reached a hand into Peter’s soft brown hair and began petting it. “I’ve got you. You’re safe. This feels good, doesn’t it?” 

Peter’s head tilted to the side as if his neck was barely able to support it. 

“Yes, sir.” Peter nodded dazedly, eyes fluttering closed. 

_ Sir _ . He never called Quentin that before. That had to be a good sign. 

“You know I’d never hurt you.” He promised. “There’s nothing wrong with feeling good. I’ll take such good care of you.”

One of those phrases did it, snapping Peter right back into it. He lifted his arms to help take the shirt off and tossed it on the ground. Not even a millisecond later, the boy’s lips were back on Quentin’s as if they were married and Quentin was a soldier returning from a ten-year war. 

“Eager, aren’t you?” Quentin couldn’t help but tease.

The kid made a shameless sound of agreement in response as he nibbled on Beck’s ear, trailing his lips down his neck and kissing anywhere he could reach. 

“Please fuck me.”

Peter rocked his hips against Quentin, making the man lose his smirk and groan. He could see why Stark was addicted to the kid. Who wouldn’t be? 

“Yeah? You want that, sweetheart?”

“Please, sir. I-I need it so bad.” He pleaded with teary eyes. 

Quentin had never seen someone so touch-starved. If he knew the boy would respond like this, he would have taken him into a closet at the funeral’s reception. Really, not to get like, political, but it was borderline abusive for Stark to leave the kid like this, whether he left intentionally or not. This was more than Tony fucking his teenage apprentice on the side for a fun time. Whatever he did to him was built on some very sturdy foundations. It must have taken him time to get the kid like this, so pliant and responsive, and...polite.  _ Sir _ . Maybe Tony was into some kinky stuff. 

“Take off your pants.” Quentin ordered, pleased when Peter got up to hastily undo his jeans’s button and zipper. “Okay, I have some lube in the--”

“No, wait.” Peter said urgently, eyes suddenly averting his. God, not anymore hesitation from the kid. Quentin was too fucking horny for this. 

He was piling some words together in his head to convince him to stay interested when Peter sank back onto his lap completely willingly. 

“I just…” The kid mumbled, cheeks turning into a rosy shade as he licked his lips. Curiously, Quentin waited for a response. Maybe he miscalculated here; this wasn’t uncertainty from the boy--this was embarrassment. “I don’t...I don’t need lube.”

“No?” Quentin raised an eyebrow in confusion. Peter was full of surprises. 

“No…” He squeaked nervously in response. “I have a-a, uh, well, I have a…”

Slowly, Peter took Quentin’s hand and led it down his back. When he made it to his ass, instead of touching the rim of his hole, Quentin was met with something hard and solid. Carefully, Quentin turned him around, gaze trailing down to his ass. 

A solid gold plug with the initials T.S. engraved on the end filled Peter’s hole. Holy shit. 

This was deliciously more scandalous than Quentin could have imagined. Saying Tony was into kinky stuff was an understatement. Stark made him stay stretched, so he could fuck him whenever he wanted. 

And the initials on top of all of that were just so possessive, telling anyone who got too close that the kid was taken, that he belonged to someone else. Someone rich and powerful and important. Someone that could fuck them up.  _ Well, Stark _ , Quentin thought as he slowly pulled the plug out, feeling the weight of the precious metal sink in his hand and Peter’s trembling body against his own,  _ hope you enjoy the show. _

**Author's Note:**

> tumblr - lovelystarker


End file.
